


half asleep

by strawberryfinn



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Male Slash, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfinn/pseuds/strawberryfinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So I’ve been thinking,” Harry says, standing in the doorway of their bedroom as he brushes his teeth, sloshing the brush messily over molars. His mouth is full and slick with toothpaste, and only years of living with him allows Niall to understand him. “I…” …He clears his throat uncertainly before working up the courage to ask the question on his mind. “Maybe it’s time to think about kids?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	half asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is the longest one-shot I’ve ever, ever written. It came out to a terrifying 8753 words (and I know this isn’t a lot for some people but it’s a LOT for me). You need to listen to **"Small Bump" by Ed Sheeran** before reading, because I listened to it on repeat writing this story. Um… I’m actually quite proud of this. It’s really different from what I’ve written before, but there’s so much fluff you’ll probably get cavities, and writing the boys as adults is really fun, actually.

The shoes are tiny and delicate. They're dark red felt Mary-Janes with floral embellishments, white-petaled flowers with yellow centers and oval, grass green leaves. They're quite lovely, painstakingly crafted, with white canvas insides and smooth, spongy cushioned bottoms.

 

But Harry's more focused on how _small_ they are. The shoes fit into the center of his palms, filling up about half of his hands, and he can't help the small smile that breaks over his lips, unfolding as easily as spreading peanut butter. He wraps his fingers around them, forest green eyes lighting up as he feels how soft and incredibly _small_ they are.

 

“Babe, everything alright? I looked around and you were gone,” comes a Irish-rouged voice, and Harry glances up.

 

“Ni, look at these,” he manages, voice barely above a whisper, unchecked wonder slipping in.

 

The blonde studies the shoes clasped in Harry's hands, and something flashes in his eyes so fast that Harry's not quite sure he sees anything at all.

 

“They're bloody tiny,” Niall says, sounding almost astonished. He reaches his hands towards Harry's, feeling the soft, slightly scratchy felt, trailing his finger-pads over the miniscule stitches of the dainty ornamentations on the shoes.

 

“I know, right?” Harry replies, voice low and slow. He glances up at Niall, catches the sparkling blue eyes, and giggles a bit nervously. When Niall grins at him, it's almost blinding.

+

“So I've been thinking,” Harry says, standing in the doorway of their bedroom as he brushes his teeth, sloshing the brush messily over molars. His mouth is full and slick with toothpaste, and only years of living with him allows Niall to understand him. “I...” Harry turns and spits into the sink in the adjoining bathroom before turning into look at Niall again. He clears his throat uncertainly before working up the courage to ask the question on his mind. “Maybe it's time to think about kids?”

 

Niall is settled in their bed in a pair of worn black Calvin Kleins, flipping through a magazine. He sets it down before meeting Harry's eyes. “This is about the shoes, isn't it?” An unexpectedly warm spark builds up inside him—one that he's only felt a few times (when Harry asked him to move in, when Harry proposed to him, their wedding day)—and he smiles to let Harry know he's been thinking too.

 

“I haven't stopped thinking about them either,” Niall admits, blushing slightly. He doesn't try to hide it because he knows at this point that Harry loves it when he flushes, the dusty pink spreading over every inch of his pale, freckled skin.

 

“Yeah?” Harry asks curiously. He shakes his untamed curls as he nestles up next to Niall, and Niall smirks.

 

“You smell like toothpaste,” he says, pressing a kiss to Harry's lips. “And yeah, I've been thinking.”

 

“We're both twenty-seven,” Harry reasons, “we're married. We live together. We're happy. We're not incredibly violent—only when I steal your food-”

 

“-and you don't do that too often,” Niall interrupts. “I love you. You love me.” He glances meaningfully at Harry, and Harry nods, confirming it. “We don't fight that much, and when we do, we make up pretty fast. We're not working anymore, and we have enough money to last us probably the rest of our lives. And I love you. I mean... it makes sense, yeah?”

 

“Liam and Louis are happy,” Harry says thoughtfully. “Maybe soon they'll get married, like you and me. And Zayn's married.”

 

“Zayn has a _kid_ now,” Niall continues, arching an eyebrow. “ _Zayn._ Zayn is married and he has a kid and he got married _after_ us. So... we're up next, yeah? I want kids,” he says impulsively, almost childishly. “I do. _I_ want kids.”

 

“I want kids too,” Harry murmurs into Niall's collarbone, “a whole house full of them. So I can buy all the tiny shoes in the world,” he whines, and Niall chokes on a laugh.

 

“Well we can certainly afford all the tiny shoes in the world.” Niall studies Harry, brushing a finger over the tip of the younger man's nose. “But you're serious, yeah? About kids?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry nods in answer. “Yeah.”

 

“Good,” Niall reasons, “because I really want them. We'll look into adoption then? We'll find some poor bird who needs to have someone take her baby in because she can't care for it. And we'll give the kid a good life, yeah?”

 

The unspoken nature of surrogacy sits between them, and they'd certainly be able to find a carrier, but there's really no need to, right? Adoption is a perfectly viable option.

 

“The best,” Harry agrees, and Niall likes how time has allowed them to mold closer together, finishing one another's sentences, answering questions without saying anything. He pulls Niall closer to him and tucks an arm under Niall's arm so that his fingers splay against the smaller man's ribcage.

 

“Love you,” Niall murmurs sleepily, accepting the kiss Harry gives him in response.

 

“Our mums are gonna flip shit,” Harry laughs, before he falls asleep, and he can see Niall's smile in the dark.

+

“Are you guys sure you're ready for this?” asks Liam doubtfully as he grabs a plate and starts spooning mashed potatoes onto it in large, messy lumps. “I mean kids aren't easy, and y'know babies are even harder.”

 

“Oh shut up, Liam. Don't be such a Negative Nancy; they'll be great,” chastises Louis, as he snatches the plate from Liam's hands and starts shoveling the food into his mouth lazily. He licks the fork with perhaps a bit more _gusto_ than necessary, winking suggestively at Liam, who looks slightly uncomfortable. Liam opens his mouth to perhaps protest, but then his shoulders sink in submission as he accepts a paper plate Niall offers him sympathetically.

 

“Kids are a lot of work,” Zayn mutters, his eyes ringed with fatigue, sounding like he's trying to convince himself. “They are so much work, but they're worth it. Aren't you, sweetheart?” He chucks his fingers under his daughter's soft chin, cooing as he bounces her against his thigh, and Elsie smiles, inky black eyelashes ( _you can tell she's Zayn's daughter—look at those eyelashes,_ thinks Niall), fluttering sleepily. “Hand me that napkin, yeah?” he asks Harry, and Harry obliges, watching in fascination as Zayn swipes a bit of pureed carrot from Elsie's face.

 

“Thanks for letting me bring her, guys,” Zayn says, almost apologetically, forehead wrinkled as Elsie hiccups dazedly. “Isa just really needed a break.”

 

“Don't be silly,” Harry replies, almost automatically. “Never can get enough of our niece. _Who loves Uncle Hazza?_ ” he babbles, bringing himself to eye level with Elsie. “Who loves Uncle Hazza? Elsie does!”

 

Elsie, for her part, just blinks and looks uncertainly at him with wide, round eyes the colour of candied pecans. Harry kisses her forehead right as he notices her lip wobbling precariously, and is relieved when she's too startled to cry.

 

“She still keeping you up all night?” Liam asks, flushing when Louis chides, “Sounds sexual and seriously, Lili? _Up All Night,_ Jesus, we're never gonna escape this band, are we?”

 

Zayn ignores Louis's sassy comments, and sets the napkin down. He runs his fingers Elsie's soft, wispy hair. 

 

“She's better now,” Zayn answers carefully, as though he'll upset his baby any second. “It's been a bit better. Isa's been able to get a little more sleep. Hopefully she'll take a nap or something while Elsie's here with me instead of shopping for all that interior decorating stuff we don't need.” He carefully maneuvers himself into a chair at the dining table, and shifts the baby up onto his shoulder, every movement hesitant as though he's afraid she'll break any second.

 

“Whipped,” Louis mutters mischievously under his breath. Liam gives him the Liam Payne version of a death glare, which honestly just makes Liam look constipated.

 

“Oh no, babes, please don't sleep now,” Zayn pleads, suddenly directing his attention away from the boys and back onto the sleepy baby cradled in his arms. “Don't sleep now, babes, you'll be awake all night if you sleep now.”

 

“Dah,” Elsie mewls, and Zayn smiles at her, tanned arm brushing up against her rosy cheeks, stark dark tattooed arm from the earlier days when it was easy not to think about the future, contrasting against her skin. 

 

“Yeah, that's right, Elsie,” Zayn whispers, “I'm your 'Dah' okay?”

 

“Who would have ever be that badass _Zayn Malik_ would be the first to become domestic?” Louis teases, winning himself the middle finger from Zayn. Louis curls up into Liam's side, and Liam glances at him fondly, and Harry thinks that they shouldn't fit together at all, but they do, rational, responsible Liam with insane, obnoxious, outgoing Louis.

 

“You've gained weight, Zaynie,” notes Louis slyly, only shutting up when Liam nudges him in the side.

 

Zayn flushes, and he glances down at the slight tummy he's developed, one that he never used to have back when he was young and reckless and put too much product in his hair—when his stomach was practically _concave._ “Isa's... really good at cooking, okay?” he mutters, sounding embarrassed, covering his stomach momentarily with his free hand. “And she gets hurt when I don't eat her food, and I don't like to see her sad and I just-”

 

_“Whipped_!” crows Louis, raising his arms in triumph. Liam claps a hand over his mouth, ears red as though he's thinking, _I am so sorry for my boyfriend's poor behavior_ and _I promise he is a good person_ and _please don't think that I'm like him at all._

 

“Well Liam did say that in his best man speech,” Niall contributes amiably. “What was it now?” He searches his memory, and then brandishes an arm sloppily outwards, in his best impression of Liam. “'Hullo ladies and gentlemen, I'm Liam Payne and I'd like to say that I blame Isa for making Zayn fat and _straight_ -'”

 

“I was drunk!” Liam cuts him off exasperatedly and disgruntled, his eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry, can we _not_ discuss the story of how I nearly destroyed Zayn's wedding again?”

 

“But it's such a good story! The _best_ one!” yelps Louis. “It's the only time we ever saw Liam Goddam Payne-in-the-ass make a royal _fool_ out of himself!”

 

Liam's face is about as red as a newly painted firetruck at this point. He glowers at Louis. “I don't know why I put up with you.”

 

“My ass is fantastic,” simpers Louis, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously at Liam, ocean eyes sparkling. All of the boys can't help but snigger at that, and even Elsie joins in, opening her mouth wide in a shriek of a laugh that has all of the boys doubled over on the floor while Zayn stares at his daughter, completely enamored, as though she's the best thing he's ever seen.

 

And well, fatherhood fits Zayn, Harry thinks. He hopes that it will be just as fitting for him and Niall.

+

The girl has curly brown hair down to her shoulder blades and straightened bangs. She has slightly almond-shaped eyes the colour of caramel, a heart-shaped face, assorted piercings scattered in her ears. She's dressed in a neon, highlighter green hoodie that hurts to look at and purple skinny jeans splattered with paint. Harry towers over her, but that's a given, seeing that she's sitting down, hands curled protectively around the small bump of her stomach.

 

“Hullo there,” Harry says, sitting down and gesturing Niall to do the same. The girl's mum is hovering around them nervously, offering them glasses of lemonade and biscuits, which they politely accept with grateful smiles.

 

The girl bites her lip uncertainly before meeting their eyes. “Hello.”

 

“I'm Harry,” Harry says, introducing himself, and then he kicks Niall in the side of the leg.

 

“Niall,” Niall greets, mouth full of chocolate biscuit. He swallows hurriedly, face a bit distressed as the cookie goes down too fast.

 

“My name's Reena,” the girl—no, _Reena_ —says. “But you can call me Ree, if you'd like, I guess.” Her arms fold more firmly across her stomach as though she's self-conscious of it. 

 

“Hi Ree. It's nice to meet you. I... uh...” Harry trails off, “This is kind of weird for you, isn't it?”

 

Reena shrugs. “I mean, the whole thing has been kind of fucking weird. When I hooked up with... well when I met the guy at the concert, I was just looking for a good time. Wasn't really expecting a baby or pregnancy or anything, y'know?”

 

Niall hums in understanding, even though he doesn't understand at all. Harry links his hand into Niall's, brushing his fingers over Niall's knuckles gently. 

 

“Well you're really brave to be going through with this,” Niall contributes, his voice straightforward but gentle. “And Harry and I... we'll take really good care of your baby.”

 

“I know,” Ree says absently. “My mum's a huge fan of yours,” she says, and her mum flames bright pink. “She named our dog Zayn,” (Harry nearly chokes on a biscuit), “and when I was growing up all I heard was 'What Makes You Beautiful' on repeat.”

 

“Yeah,” Niall offers, while thumping Harry on the back. “Those were really good days—the best. But we're just trying to live a quieter life now, you know? The best thing One Direction did for us was bring me and Harry together, I figure.”

 

“That's fucking adorable,” Ree says, and this time her smile reaches her eyes even though Harry flinches a bit at her word choice. “It's just...” she bites her lip again, and Niall's afraid she's going to make herself bleed. “It's weird,” she admits. “I have this... this like... this _person_ growing inside of me. And I already feel so big, and I'm only in my ninth week, and now I'm worried about eating enough and walking and I just want to paint, y'know?” She runs her fingers under her hoodie, feeling the skin there. “Um... do... do you want to feel?”

 

“Can we?” asks Harry eagerly, and before Ree can answer, he's already there, long, spidery fingers pressed against her stomach. Niall gets down on his knees, hands feeling Ree's slightly swollen belly.

 

“There's a baby in there,” Niall says, and he sounds so stupidly delighted and disbelieving that Harry can't help but laugh.

 

“And it's going to be ours.”

+

“So how's Baby Nandos's mum?” Zayn asks from where he's lounging on the couch, long legs askew, head nearly drooping off the seat. Harry's a bit disappointed he didn't bring Elsie with him, but he tries not to let it show.

 

“Baby Nandos?” Harry asks uncertainly, and Niall perks up at the mention of his favourite restaurant.

 

“Y'know. The baby,” Zayn shrugs offhandedly. His newest tattoo is visible—two small, conjoined stars in the hollow of his neck.

 

(“What's that?” Liam had asked. “Another one, really, Zayn?” 

 

“It's a star,” Zayn had replied, easily, eyes softer than they'd been when he was younger, “for Elsie. You know. Estelle. Estelle Promise Malik. Estelle means Star.”

 

“Well I guess that's better than the 6 tattoo you got when you were high out of your mind,” was all Louis had to put in, but anyone could see he was touched from the way he was talking, even as he nuzzled into Liam's shoulder. 

 

“What's the second one for?” Niall had asked.

 

“Isa.” Zayn closed his eyes, dark eyelashes inky as ever.

 

“You're whipped, mate,” Harry put in, taking Louis's usual line.

 

“Oh shut _up_ ,” Zayn said, but there had been no real animosity, just all softness because that's what Zayn was this day. Domesticity had taken him, worn down his angles and ridges—made him warmer, gentler).

 

“I don't recall naming the baby _Nandos_ ,” Harry frowns uncertainly.

 

“You didn't,” Zayn counters, “ _I_ did. Baby Nandos. I used to call Niall that but now he's yours and I'll just call your guys' baby... Baby Nandos.”

 

“Stop it,” Harry protests, trying to curb how defensive he sounds.

 

“I will,” Zayn answers, a secretive smile. “When you guys get a name.”

 

A pause.

 

“Now you know how I felt about you calling Elsie _Baby Quiff_. Arseholes, the whole lot of you.”

+

**11:24 am** : Hi Ree. This is Harry. I'm so glad we've met, and Nialler and I are really excited about the baby.  
 **11:25 am** : I was just dropping in to let you know that Niall and I want to do anything we can to make you more comfortable.  
 **11:27 am** : If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to let us know, okay?

+

**11:37 am** : harry, get me watermelon n peanut butter  
 **11:37 am** : chocolate chip biscuits plz too n rainbow sherbert ice cream  
 **11:37 am** : mums being lazy  
 **11:38 am** : bbys hungry

+

**11:40 am** : Of course, Ree. See you soon.

+

“Liam, this is too much,” Harry protests to no avail. “Seriously, Liam, how much was it?”

 

Liam doesn't respond, eyes cast downward in determination instead. The vein in his neck throbs dangerously, and he shoulders the box he's holding, carrying it impulsively with him.

 

“Mate, you bought us a crib?” Niall asks, 

 

“Yes, now shut up and take it,” Liam replies, _finally,_ eyes soft. “Come on now, let's put it together.”

 

Harry and Niall are hopeless at assembling anything, Louis is even more so (but Liam doesn't tell him that; he just treats every useless , and Zayn claims he's tired (“Shitty dad you make, Malik? Who put your daughter's crib together, your wife?” “Um...”). Liam ends up putting the entire crib together, and when he's finished, the lot of them curl around it, fingers wrapping around the loops and spokes of the white wood in awe.

 

“We'll paint this room next, yeah?” Niall nudges Harry with his nose later on.

 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “The nursery then. We'll keep the crib in our room for the first few months though.”

 

“Okay.” Niall swallows. “I'm glad we're doing this, Harry. Especially glad I'm doing it with you.”

 

Harry kisses him.

 

Louis pretends to gag because their exchange is “frankly too _adorable_ —I could vomit rainbows right now,” but promptly shoves his tongue down Liam's throat. Zayn mutters something about the band turning the whole lot of them gay for one another, and how he was the only one who escaped.

 

Louis squeezes his ass, the way he used to when they were on stage.

 

Zayn decides it's time to leave.

+

Shopping list written by Niall:  
-Harry's tea  
-chicken thighs  
-bread  
-milk  
-cream  
-Nutella  
-condoms  
-for Ree: crisps, strawberry ice cream, cucumbers, peaches (*remember to text to see if she wants anything else)

+

“What do you want?” Harry asks impulsively, as they're lying in bed on a lazy Sunday. They're both shirtless and sweaty, legs tangled like vines.

 

Niall hums absently, almost purring in pleasure as Harry plays with his hair. “What do you mean?”

 

“Bird or bloke?” Harry nips Niall's bottom lip lightly, playfully and Niall smiles at him. Harry's studies Niall, green eyes hooded but suddenly serious. “Girl or boy?”

 

“Doesn't matter to me really,” Niall answers, struggling to sit up in bed but failing miserably as Harry pulls him back down. He flails in the sheets, limbs sinewy and taut, and then gives up as he shifts closer to Harry. He places his head to Harry's chest and lets Harry spoon himself around him, long arms clutched protectively around his shoulders. 

 

“As long as it's healthy, any sex is fine,” Niall continues, voice muffled in Harry's skin.

 

“I mean, if you could choose,” Harry presses, pulling Niall in closer to him until he's practically inhaling each of Niall's exhales.

 

“Girl then, I reckon,” Niall reasons, after a pause. “I always wanted a sister.” There's a bit of quiet until he adds as an after thought, “She'd be a real Daddy's little girl, huh?”

 

“I want a girl too,” Harry says happily, exuberance colouring all of his features. He trails his finger over Niall's stomach and places a sloppy kiss on Niall's cheek, smirking when Niall whines in protest. “And yes, Daddy's little girl.”

 

Niall's content in knowing what Harry looks like without looking up—he knows Harry's smile is hooked lazily over his face, grass green eyes are shiny with joy. His stomach flutters a bit when he thinks about why Harry's happy—about 

 

Or maybe he's just hungry. 

 

But he thinks the funny feeling is because of a future he hasn't quite realized, but wants so badly he can nearly taste it. Summer days, watching their toddler stumble around in the park on chubby knees. Fall mornings, tiny feet in Mary-Janes crackling through the fallen leaves. School mornings, cutting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into fun shapes before tucking them securely into plastic baggies. Spring, with bright flowers budding through open fields, but not quite as bright as their child's smile. Winter nights, curled up in a blanket on the couch with Harry while their kid makes a mess of Ginger. Macaroni art, popsicle stick picture frames, doodles that will include wild purple curls for Harry's hair and loopy U’s for Niall's smile. A small tinkle of voice, calling _Dadda_ and _Papa._

 

Parenting is scary, he figures. But with Harry by his side... well, _together_ they might just be ready for it.

+

“It's a girl!” announces Dr. Marlowe, pointing at the sonogram. “Look at that! Congratulations!”

 

Ree looks up, a bit dazed, brushing her bangs out of her face. She eyes the screen uncertainly, watching as the image shifts, the small figure blurring scratchy and grey and white. Harry squeezes her hand, as Niall's eyes widen with awe, and there's an audible sharp intake of breath.

 

“It's a girl,” Harry chortles, voice brimming with happiness. His heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest and he grins so widely, all his teeth show. “Ni, it's a _girl_.”

+

They make hundreds of copies of the sonogram.

 

They send pictures by snail mail to their parents of course. Harry kisses the picture as he tucks it into an envelope with Anne's address and Gemma's address, and Niall texts a picture to his mam, who calls him demanding a physical copy. Harry tacks one to the refrigerator, one to the mirror of their bathroom, one clipped inside the mirror of his car. Niall keeps one in his wallet at all times, and Harry catches him on more than one occasion gazing at the one in the drawer of their nightstand before they go to sleep. Niall always blushes and Harry coos and kisses him silly.

 

They're delirious about the prospects of their future, and nobody can fault them.

 

Niall's pretty sure Zayn only takes the picture to be polite, but he grins easily at them because he can understand. Louis analyzes the picture from every angle, asking if they're _sure_ it's not a boy because that might as well be a penis right there, until Harry slaps him upside the head and tells him that if he doesn't stop, he'll never get to come over and play with their little girl and _forget about_ being her godfather. Liam treats Niall and Harry as though they're _pregnant_ and keeps bringing over boxes of formula, little stuffed toys. He doesn't for four days when Zayn teases him and calls him _Daddy Direction_ , but he seems to get over the teasing enough to buy them two crates of diapers.

 

Harry and Niall bask in the attention, loving that their friends are almost as excited as they are. _Almost_ , that is.

+

The first thing they buy are the red felt shoes with the white and yellow flowers. Harry cups them in his hands in wonder, and Niall smiles at him, and the cashier with the name tag that reads _Katelyn_ asks them for autographs and tells them that she was always a Narry shipper. Katelyn wishes them a nice day and throws in an extra pair of tiny blue Mary-Janes and a smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat's for free.

+

“So I've been thinking,” Harry starts, and Niall's reminded of how it all started.

 

“Thinking, eh?” Niall gives him a rueful smile and shakes his head. “Don't want to strain yourself, babe.”

 

“Oh piss off, Niall,” Harry retorts, but there's no venom in his voice. Instead, he grins, full lips slightly lopsided. “Amelie.”

 

“What?”

 

“I think... for a name? Amelie...?”

 

Niall tries it out, pursing his lips as he repeats Harry. “Amelie. Amelie. _Ah-meh-lee._ ”

 

“Yeah?” Harry whispers, “We can talk about other names if you want, I just thought... I mean, I've always loved the film, and the girl is... she's just... she helps everyone, y'know? And I thought it was pretty. Looked it up and it means 'striving, hardworking,' and those are good qualities, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Niall says, and then repeats, “ _Amelie._ ”

 

“We can change it, if you want,” Harry says quickly, “I just thought it was unique, and pretty and-”

 

“It's perfect,” Niall interrupts. “No, seriously, Haz. I love it. _Amelie_ ,” he says again, and Harry can see every one of his eyelashes as he blinks and repeats himself. “ _Amelie._ ”

 

He imagines delicate, dimpled hands, tiny fingernails, wispy curls of auburn hair. Bright, wide eyes, and a secretive smile. “Amelie.”

 

“At least Zayn will stop calling her Baby Nandos,” Harry adds, and he thinks Niall's laugh might be his favourite sound in the world.

+

“I feel like a blimp,” Ree mutters as she swipes paint effortlessly across the canvas. “Like I have a fucking watermelon inside my stomach.”

 

Harry bites back a protest at the fact that his future child is being called a “fucking watermelon.”

 

“You look fine,” he says instead. “Radiant, really.”

 

“Pregnancy glow,” Niall offers, and Ree lets out a small laugh.

 

“Stop with the flattery,” she says, putting around her canvas. “I feel like I'm gonna explode any second.”

 

Niall and Harry watch as she brushes her hair back with her paint-covered hand, landing a stripe of yellow on her face.

 

“Thanks for the paint and brushes, guys,” Ree comments, no trace of sarcasm this time. She gestures vaguely to the new art supplies that lay unopened on the side. “I can't do much nowadays, but at least I can still paint.”

 

“Of course. It's the least we can do,” Harry answers automatically.

 

Ree hums to herself as she dabbles in some blue, before adding as an afterthought, “She's kicking if you want to feel.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry asks eagerly, and the men crowd around the teenage girl, placing trembling hands on Ree's stomach.

 

“Hey baby,” coos Niall, pressing his face against Ree's stomach. If she's uncomfortable with it, she politely doesn't say anything. “It's me out here. Papa loves you, okay?”

 

“Daddy's here too.” Harry grins, a bit hesitant. “We're excited to meet you, Amelie. It's a beautiful world out here, and we want to share it with you.”

+

“She's a sweet girl.” Careful conversations on the drive home.

 

“Yeah. She's got a mouth on her, but she means well.”

 

“You feel Amelie kick today?”

 

“Yes. She's a fighter. Hopefully she won't inherit that vocabulary though.”

 

“I'll stop cussing. I swear.”

 

“Big claims for a leprechaun.”

 

“I'm serious. I'll do it for her. Our Amelie will be a _lady_ , damn it.”

+

“Thanks for baby-sitting,” Zayn says again as he adjusts his tie, “seriously, mate, _thank you._ ”

 

Harry waves off his thanks easily. “No problem, Zayn. I mean, Niall and I have to learn how to take care of babies if we're gonna have one soon, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Zayn replies uncertainly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

 

“Babe, is Harry here?” comes an easy-going voice, and Zayn visibly softens, looks laxer as his wife hooks her head over his shoulder.

 

“Hey Isa,” Harry greets, hugging Isa close to him. She smells like peaches and fresh clovers, and he knows why Zayn fell in love with her. He remembers when Zayn first introduced them to her—she'd been a bit quieter, a bit shyer, a slender slip of a girl who'd go unnoticed by most people, but then again Zayn had always been more introspective. (“I think she might be the one,” he'd told Harry, and Harry had told him to go for it).

 

“Thank you for baby-sitting,” Isa giggles, her laugh tinkling like clinking glass, as Harry kisses her cheek. “We really have to go to this wedding. How's Niall?”

 

“Niall's great as always,” Harry 

 

“Z, you wanna go get Elsie?” Isa strokes Zayn's arm lightly, and responds by placing his hand on the small of her back.

 

“Yeah,” Zayn says, eyes warm and doe-like, “yeah, I'll do that.”

 

“I'm gonna go get my heels then,” Isa says, and she scampers off after pressing a quick kiss to Zayn's lips. Zayn smiles into the kiss, touching her face fleetingly, tenderly, and Harry is overcome with an unbridled happiness for his best mate.

 

“You can come with me then,” Zayn offers, watching Isa scramble off, a fond expression on his face, and Harry follows him into the nursery.

 

Elsie's squalling a bit, hands wrapped in itty-bitty fists, but she gurgles happily when Zayn picks her up. 

 

“Up we go, little star,” Zayn coos, kissing her nose. “Uncle Hazza's going to take care of you today. You let me know if he does anything bad, k?”

 

Elsie squeals happily as Zayn blows a raspberry on her cheek before carefully placing her in Harry's arms.

 

“She's perfect,” Harry manages breathlessly as he takes Elsie close in to his chest. Zayn beams at him, coffee-coloured eyes shining with unrestrained pride.

 

“I never thought I'd care about someone more than I cared about me,” Zayn admits, a bit sheepishly. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and he searches for Harry's eyes. Harry nods, indicating that he should continue. Harry doesn't try to deny it—Zayn's always been sort of a vain git, but then Elsie garbles nonsensically and Zayn practically melts on the spot.

 

“But... everything just changes, you know? You find the right person and then you make something beautiful... and she's... she's like the _best_ person, y'know?” Zayn reaches out a finger to stroke Elsie's cheek, golden skin a juxtaposition against Elsie's soft, pink skin, as he fumbles over his words. “She's like... part of me and part of Isa, and I just... Harry, you don't... I mean, I'm worried about her all the time, and... I've never loved someone so much. She's not even a year old and she doesn't even know how to talk and she doesn't understand half of what I say, but I'd... I'd do anything for her.” 

 

He pauses, letting out a weak shuddery breath. “I'm... I'm a right selfish bastard, Harry, I'll admit it. But Elsie... she just makes me want to be a better person. Her mum is the best person I've ever met, and it's a whole different perspective now that I've got someone counting on me.” He glances at Harry beseechingly, eyes bright. “Jesus, I must sound mental to you.”

 

“No,” Harry answers, as he presses a kiss to Elsie's soft, downy hair. He meets Zayn's eyes evenly, proudly. “No, Zayn, you just sound like a father.”

+

“So Elsie is precious,” Harry whispers into the nape of Niall's shoulder later that night. He blows gently on the small hairs on the back of Niall's neck, liking how small and delicate they are. Little _baby_ hairs, he thinks, and the thought makes butterflies flutter in his stomach because everything nowadays makes him think of babies. “I couldn't get enough of her fingers and her toes, and she's just _beautiful,_ Niall.”

 

“You know Amelie will be prettier than her, right?” croons Niall softly, tittering a bit as Harry continues playing with his hair. He meets Harry's eyes in the dark, and Harry can just make out the soft ridges of his chapped lips, the slight contours of his chest.

 

“Of course,” Harry answers, voice harboring a secret, “just don't tell Zayn that.”

+

“Liam?” Niall murmurs, pushing the hair and sleep from his eyes. “Jesus, Liam, it's fucking early. What's going on?”

 

Liam's fists are clenched so hard, “Louis and I had a row.” His voice is hoarse, broken, and Niall's immediately awake, swinging open the door so Liam can stumble inside.

 

“I... I...” Liam's wringing his hands now, whimper in his throat as he swipes at his tears. “Christ, he... he thinks I don't _love_ him, but I do, I do, Niall. You have to believe me.”

 

“Course I believe you, Liam,” Niall says automatically, because it's Liam and Louis, they're almost as in love as Zayn and Isa or Niall and Harry. “What happened?” He settles Liam into a chair at their kitchen table while he scampers to put a kettle on to make tea.

 

Liam buries his face in his hands. “We were just talking about Amelie and how we were excited for you,” he wavers, lip trembling dangerously, and Niall hurriedly rushes over and squeezes his shoulders because he doesn't want to see Liam _cry._

 

“Yeah?” Niall soothes, running his hands in small circles on Liam's back because that always makes Harry feel better. “Yeah, we're really excited too.”

 

Apparently that's the wrong thing to say because Liam starts crying then, and the kettle whistles, and Niall goes and makes tea and thrusts a steaming mug into Liam's trembling hands. The tears start coming down in torrents down Liam's face and he's gasping, “I just... I don't think I'm _ready_ yet, Niall, is that _wrong_?”

 

“What?” Niall asks gently, completely perplexed. He arches an eyebrow nervously, and wraps his arms around Liam's shoulders from behind, wishing he could stop the older man from shaking.

 

“Lou w-wants us t-to g-get a k-k-kid too,” Liam stammers, hands cupped around the tea. “And I... I do love him Niall, I do, I just... I don't know if I'm r-ready for this type of commitment! We just started dating and everything is like a roller coaster with him—and everything's s-so s-scary and I don't know if I'm good enough for this... if I'm ready for this. I've never loved anyone like I've loved Lou before, Niall, and all he said was, ' _If you don't think this is going anywhere, then maybe we should just end it now_ ,'” he chokes on his tea, and Niall slaps his back, a bit harder than he intends to, concern etched into his features.

 

“I'm sorry Liam,” Niall says, feeling helpless.

 

“I just... he's such a twat,” Liam continues, ripping the napkin in his hands into shreds. “I... he's _impossible_ all the time, but I just... I love him, y'know?”

 

“Yeah,” Niall says, easing into the chair next to Liam. He places his fingers over the back of Liam's hand. “Yeah, I think I do.”

+

“I talked to Lou today,” Harry notes as he slips onto his side of the bed. “He called me and ranted for almost an hour.”

 

“Yeah?” Niall asks, a bit absently as he drums his fingers on the edge of the mattress.

 

“You okay, babe? You sound a little distant.” Harry can see the tension in the lines on his forehead, the way he's slightly tugging at his lip with white teeth.

 

“Yeah, sorry.” Niall kisses him before settling in comfortably next to Harry. “I... yeah, just worried about Liam. Um, he came over when you were out.”

 

“How's he doing?” Harry tuts sympathetically when Niall shakes his head. “Louis can be ridiculous sometimes.”

 

“He's ridiculous _all the time,_ ” Niall counters, sounding exasperated, running his hand through his hair so it stands up in blonde clumps. “I'm surprised Liam puts up with him.”

 

“Well he loves him,” Harry notes, sounding a bit defensive. He softens when he sees Niall tense slightly. “Just like you love me.”

 

“But you're easy to love.” Niall dwells on this, reaching up to stroke Harry's face affectionately. “Like you're so easy to love, Harry. You're easy-going and kind and compassionate-”

 

“-and sexy,” Harry puts in, preening at his own compliment. “Don't forget sexy.”

 

“Yeah. And sexy,” Niall smirks, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, I just hope they'll figure things out.”

 

“They will,” Harry replies resolutely. “They will—they're meant for each other, you know? Soulmates. Just like you and I are. It just... Louis is being immature because Liam hurt his feelings, and Louis is staying at a motel because he thinks Liam is being insensitive, and it's just... Hopefully Louis will get his head out of his ass soon, but I can see why he's hurt.” he furls his hands into the bedsheets, “it's just... they're so _new_ at this, y'know? But every couple goes through this. ”

 

“We never fought as much as they did,” Niall mumbles. “You and I... everything is easy with you. Loving you isn't a lot of work, 's just _natural,_ and I like it that way.”

 

“That's because you're lazy.” Harry taps Niall playfully on the nose, liking how he can see the small dash of freckles across Niall's skin.

 

“Damn straight.” Niall threads his fingers through Harry's curls, inhaling Harry like he's oxygen and Niall's been suffocating for days. “It's always been you though, Harry.”

 

Harry lets the words sink in, radiating in the core of his soul. He loves how he and Niall can be honest with each other, bare everything out in the open.

 

“Harry?” Niall's voice breaks the silence, but he's quiet, unsure. “Do you think we're ready for this?”

 

_Of course we are,_ Harry wants to say. _We're more than ready, we can do this—you and I were made for this,_ but instead he says, “I don't know, Ni.”

 

Niall tenses a bit, fingers looped in Harry's t-shirt, as he waits for Harry to continue. “But I do know that if we're not, we'll be okay. You can't really be prepared for something like this, y'know? But we have each other, we have the boys. Christ, we can ask Zayn to come over and help us.” A glint of a white teeth curved in a smile. “We'll figure it out together.”

 

“Yeah,” hums Niall, apparently content with that answer. “Love you.”

 

“I know.”

+

“You sure this colour is okay?” Niall asks for the umpteenth time. He's dressed in white coveralls and a black tee and looks absolutely ridiculous, but he's so earnest, Harry can't help but love him.

 

“Yeah,” Harry replies, crinkling his nose. He glances at the lime green paint and wonders for a minute if they should have gotten pink instead.

 

_Screw gender conventions_ , he thinks bravely, as he dunks his paintbrush into the can and swipes it onto the wall.

 

“This is kind of fun,” Niall notes, as he starts painting next to Harry. A huge splotch of paint falls to their floor, which is thankfully covered in tarp.

 

“Yeah,” Harry grins. “Yeah, it is.”

 

About 70% of the paint ends up in Harry's hair, clumped to his curls. About 25% ends up on their bodies, clinging to Niall's now lime green coveralls, dried to the side of his face. About 5% makes it to the walls.

 

But well... parenting is supposed to be fun too.

+

Zayn comes the next day and repaints the entire room sky blue. He adds in soft fluffy clouds and shooting stars so that every night, Amelie can sleep under the sky.

+

“Haven't heard from Ree in awhile, huh?” Harry pauses thoughtfully as he slides a plate of French toast in front of Niall who eagerly digs in.

 

“Yeah,” Niall answers, mouth full, syrup dripping from his lips. Harry ruffles his hair affectionately, and Niall beams at him. “She's probably just busy.” 

 

“It's been like three weeks though,” Harry says, brow creased. He ticks off his fingers, “I mean we found out the sex of the baby at Week 18... three... almost four weeks ago, and so now she's at Week 21? Week 22?”

 

“She's probably just busy,” Niall repeats, looking unconcerned as he stuffs more toast into his mouth. “We can call her if we don't hear from her by next week or so? But she probably just wants her privacy, Haz.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry says, trying to ignore the slight twinge in his heart. “She's probably busy.”

+

The click of the door as it opens.

 

 

“Hi there.” Niall doesn't turn around from where he's frying an omelette at the stove.

 

 

There's no answer. Niall turns down the fire and turns to see his husband, eyebrows immediately knitting in the middle of his forehead when he takes a good luck at Harry. “Harry? Harry, what's wrong?”

 

Harry's balled up his hand into a fist, and he's biting down hard on it, harsh sobs racking his body. Niall gets to him before he crumples, catching him as Harry whimpers, chin catching hard against Niall's shoulders.

 

“Baby, you're hurting yourself.” Niall tries to dislodge Harry's fist from his mouth, and struggles to keep his voice even. He's hardly ever seen Harry so torn up, and it scares him.

 

“Harry, _Harry!_ ” The urgency in Niall's voice is undeniable; he clasps his hands to Harry's face. “Harry, what is it?” A thought hits him. “Is it your mum? Is Gemma okay?”

 

Harry shakes his head no then yes, and Niall spirals on desperately. “Oh Christ, it's not one of the boys, is it?”

 

Harry trembles, his movements sporadic and almost desperate as he clings onto Niall. He struggles to get even a semblance of control over his emotions, limbs quaking.

 

“Harry.” Niall forces himself to keep his voice level, even though Harry's in hysterics, and it's all he can do to keep from crying because Harry's crying, and something must be really wrong. “Harry, can you start from the beginning?”

 

“I... I,” Harry's fingers are shaking, tears cascading down his cheeks, mottled pink and red. “I w-was worried.”

 

“Worried about what?” Niall ask, trying to keep the racing of his heart under control, deep-seated dread curling up in his stomach. “Worried about what, Harry?”

 

“W-w-we hadn't heard from R-Ree.” Harry's grip on Niall's wrists is now almost vice-like, but Niall shrugs off the pain as he struggles to understand what Harry's saying. “S-so I-I drove over and,” Harry's voice creschendos onto a higher note, and it's like a dam has burst. The words come spilling out, uncontrolled, wild. “I d-drove over and only her m-mum was there and the dog, Zayn, and s-s-she j-just... I asked for R-Ree and her... her face was s-so e-empty a-and... she... Ree... s-she... m-m-mis-”

 

“No.” Niall's voice is growing in pitch, intensity. He shakes his head wildly. “No.”

 

“Amelie,” Harry manages to choke through his tears, and Niall's heart plummets.

 

“What? Is Ree okay? Is everything okay? What... what happened next, Harry?” He presses a kiss earnestly to Harry's cheek, slick with tears. “What happened, Harry, come on, just take it slow.”

 

“M-m-miscarriage,” is all that escapes, and Niall's world comes crashing down.

+

**3:52 pm** : lou stop being a dick. come to niall n harrys they need us  
 **3:53 pm** : liam loves u. stop being selfish  
 **3:53 pm** : smth bad happened

+

They're all nestled on the couch, like in the old days when they couldn't get enough of each other or away from each other. Niall sniffles, and Harry wishes he could take away Niall's pain, drink it, stash it away somewhere where it doesn't have to hurt them both. But he can't, so he settles on stroking the back of Niall's neck, pressing a kiss to the back of Niall's hand.

 

“Well, you still have each other,” Liam supplies, sounding so eager to be helpful, but sounding callous in doing so. His hand is latched into Louis's like a lifeline, and he tries to smile but it's half-hearted and futile. “And you... you can always try again.”

 

“But she was ours,” whimpers Niall, eyes red-rimmed with misery. He sounds so utterly morose, voice hollow and broken, and Harry wants to hold him and whisper that everything will be alright, but he can't because nothing's alright. “She was ours, you know? I know it sounds stupid because we didn't know her and it's not like we _made_ her and we don't even know what she would have looked like... but she was still... not just any other kid can replace her.”

 

“That's not stupid,” objects Zayn sharply, from where he's been mostly silent this entire time, letting Niall curl up into his side. “Not at all, Nialler. I'm sorry... I'm... I'm so sorry, this is just shit. I'm... I'm just really sorry, boys.”

 

Harry flicks up his gaze at Zayn and studies his wistful expression, knowing that Zayn's thinking about his own daughter. Something bitter floods his mouth, and he almost hates Zayn for a second, knowing that Zayn gets to have his baby while he and Niall don't. But he can't hate Zayn for this. He can't hate Zayn for having the one thing that he can't. He can't hate Zayn, and he doesn't want to, but he wants to feel something other than this overwhelming, unbearable numbness that is building up, coating his insides, freezing him from inside out so soon he won't feel anything at all.

 

Louis is uncharacteristically silent. He stares at Liam, a hardly decipherable message in his eyes, and Harry makes himself believe that he's saying, _I love you and I'm sorry._

 

But Niall bursts into a fresh set of tears, and he has more important things to worry about.

+

Unopened plastic bottles.

 

 

Two boxes of diapers.

 

A box of formula.

 

A tiny pink dress with a Peter Pan style collar, embellished with embroidered miniscule pink roses.

 

Three sets of Mary-Janes, still in their boxes.

 

A yellow onesie with a duckie hoodie.

 

An empty, wooden white crib lined with an untouched pastel, crocheted blanket.

+

The space between them is simultaneously big and small enough to fit a newborn baby, and as they drift off to sleep, hearts heavy, tear tracks on their cheeks, they feel the emptiness weigh down on them. It presses down heavy, like a comforter, threatening to suffocate them, but they will themselves to keep breathing, to keep moving on.

+

“Mum, it just hurts. I don't know what to do. Niall cries all the time, and he's like some stranger, and I... I don't know anymore.”

 

“It'll get easier, love. You just need some time.”

+

“Harry, the adoption agency called today.”

 

Harry freezes from where he's wiping down their windows, soapy, dripping rag clutched in his hand. “What?”

 

Niall shrugs, but Harry knows him to well to know that it's not nonchalance, it's not indifference. Niall always overcompensates, and Harry can read every bit of him like he can read music, lyrics effortlessly falling from his lips, under his fingers, so raw, so real, he can almost touch them.

 

“Um... the adoption agency. They... they have a girl who's looking for adoptive parents, and they... they called us.”

 

 

“I...” Harry fumbles over words, his tongue uncomfortable in his mouth. “I don't...”

 

“It's been almost two years,” Niall ventures on, trying to stay on the cautious side because he sees the mist fogging up Harry's eyes and he doesn't want Harry to hurt. But he's hurting too, floods of memories coming back, cardboard boxes full of baby clothes, the crib locked up in the garage so they don't have to look at it.

 

“She, uh... when's she due?”

 

“I don't know,” Niall answers, mouth pressed in a tight line. “I didn't ask. But... I think we should at least meet her, don't you?”

 

“Yeah.” Green eyes meet blue. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

+

In the end they get a boy.

 

 

He has the same silky, downy hair they've always dreamed of, feather light blonde. Eyelashes so impossibly long and delicate they rival Zayn's, broody lips that would seem to fit on a teenager but work so well on a heart-shaped face, rosy red cheeks. He comes out into the world, fists clenched, eyes scrunched close, shrilling as loudly as his lungs will let him, but when they hold him for the first time, he smiles. At least that's what they tell people.

 

The Mary-Janes and frilly dresses stay in the attic, and instead they buy tiny velcro sneakers, coveralls, onesies, snapbacks that match Niall's. They choose out toy cars instead of dolls, plan camping trips instead of tea parties. They learn about insects and Power Rangers instead of princesses, buy dinosaur chicken nuggets and pretend ketchup is lava. 

 

...and well, it's all they could have ever asked for.

+

“Daddy! Papa's teasing me,” the little boy complains, tiny pearled teeth worrying his bottom lip. He looks imploringly up at Harry, tugging on his hand insistently. “He won't stop tickling me! _Daddy_!”

 

“Papa, that's not nice,” Harry says, easily, pouting at Niall in a way, bottom lip protruded that has their child gurgling with laughter, bright brown eyes dancing.

 

“You caught me.” Niall raises his hands in surrender, twitching his fingers playfully. “Bryce, you got me good.”

 

“No, _Daddy_ did,” Bryce retorts feistily, and Harry basks in the sound of Niall's laugh.

 

“Yeah, that's right. Daddy's the only one I'll listen to-”

 

“You listen to me too,” Bryce demands, and the way he says it sounds like an order.

 

“Okay, bud. I listen to you too.” The corner of Niall's eyes scrunch in joy, and he ruffles his son's hair. “Can you brush your teeth now?”

 

“Yeah!” gushes Bryce proudly, “I can do it all by myself! Uncle Liam showed me how!”

 

Harry watches, a fond expression on his face, as Bryce scampers off to the bathroom, and turns to Niall. He frowns when he notices how Niall's lips are drawn in a tight line, his eyes a bit hard.

 

“You okay?” Harry questions, voice gentle, as he rubs Niall's shoulder blades.

 

“Yeah.” Niall's voice cracks as he glances up at Harry, eyes slightly moist. “Yeah... it's just. It's been five years and it still hurts.”

 

“I know,” Harry croons, breaking as he takes in Niall's shaking shoulders. “Come here.”

 

Niall lets Harry press him close, long arms draping over his back. He breathes in Harry, the smell of brown sugar and chocolate and _home._

 

Niall takes in a deep, shuddery breath, glancing skywards before squeezing his eyes shut. “Night, Amelie.”

 

And then they creep inside to tuck Bryce in. They listen to soft sighs, breathy and delicate in the night, and look at one another knowingly, secretively. Niall kisses the crown of his son's head, Harry curls the sheets around him, before they stumble off to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to end on a happier note. Originally I was just going to leave it at the scene with the space in between them, but I wanted them to have more hope. I guess what I was trying to get across was that even though they have Bryce now, it’s not the same as the first time they’re going through this, when everything is new and vibrant and they’re delirious with the thought of taking care of a baby girl. Bryce is obviously a wonderful person for them, but he’ll never fully manage to replace the hole that was left by Amelie.
> 
> My cousin recently miscarried and that was the inspiration for this fic. That and “Small Bump” by Ed Sheeran who is pretty much a ginger god.
> 
> But anyways, please let me know what you think. I’d love to hear.


End file.
